


I Wanna Dance With Somebody

by raindrop_royal



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Abandonment, Gen, Sad Ending, Self-Hatred, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 14:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17024385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raindrop_royal/pseuds/raindrop_royal
Summary: Michael and Jeremy, right up until they fall apart.





	I Wanna Dance With Somebody

**Author's Note:**

> prepare to get sad kids

Michael was sitting on the table, the sun shining on him as he listened to his MP3 player. His favorite song came on, and he felt his mood lift. He sang along to the song, a wide smile on his face.  
"Oh, I wanna dance with somebody," he sang, flinging his arms out as a group of kids passed by him. One of them shouted at him.  
"Loser!" The rest of the group echoed the insult, the tone getting more mean as kids shouted. Michael looked around, then realized that the group of kids were yelling at him. He lowered his arms and his gaze until he was looking at the table, his music paused. He'd never felt ashamed of his music before; this was a new feeling, and Michael hated it. He felt his tears well up when a soft voice came from his side.  
"What's that song?" Michael looked up to see a skinny kid in a Zelda hoodie standing there.  
"It's by Whitney Houston," Michael said, swallowing his tears.  
"What's it called?"  
"I Wanna Dance With Somebody Who Loves Me. Um, do you--," Michael faltered for a moment, then regained his confidence, "-- do you want to listen to it?" The tall kid nodded and climbed up on the table next to Michael.  
"What's your name," the tall kid asked.  
"Michael. What's yours?"  
"Jeremy. Do you wanna be friends?"  
"Sure." They smiled at each other, then Michael hit play.

Michael opened the door, a paper that said 'I HATE EIGHTH GRADE' in red pen fluttering down the stairs with him. Behind the door was Jeremy, his best friend of three years. Jeremy burst into a smile immediately upon seeing the door open.  
"Michael! You ready to destroy some zombies," Jeremy exclaimed, producing a Nintendo game from his jacket pocket. Michael grabbed Jeremy's arm and dragged him inside, slamming the door shut.  
"Hi, Jeremy," Michael's dad called. Jeremy waved as they dashed past the kitchen, Michael pulling the two of them down the basement stairs. Jeremy tossed his bag in the corner, joining Michael on the beanbags in front of the TV. They loaded the game and picked two-player mode. Michael laughed as Jeremy died thirty seconds after they entered the game, then got attacked while Jeremy respawned. After a few minutes of playing, Jeremy paused the game.  
"Michael, can I tell you a secret?"  
"Yeah, of course," Michael said, instantly on alert.  
"The dance is coming up, and I know that I said I'd go, but I'm scared cause I don't know how to dance." Jeremy had a careful tone of voice, his eyes cast downward. Michael felt a smile grow on his face and got up. He went over to the record player set up in the corner and flicked through the records until he found the one he was looking for. After fiddling with the needle for a moment, Whitney Houston's voice filled the room. Jeremy looked up to see Michael extending a hand.  
"Come on. I'll teach you how to dance." Jeremy gave a small smile and consented, grabbing Michael's hand.  
"This is so weird," Jeremy mumbled as Michael restarted the song.  
"Follow my feet," he said, starting to dance. Jeremy crossed his arms, his embarrassment obvious. Michael rolled his eyes and grabbed his hands, dragging him along. After a little bit, Jeremy got into the swing of things, laughing and smiling as he and Michael danced. He let out a giggle when he copied a dance move that Michael did, and Michael felt his heart swell. He'd always loved Jeremy's laugh, but it had never made him feel this strongly before.  
"Oh," he breathed, entranced by the image of Jeremy looking carefree for once that was now seared into his brain. Jeremy dragged him out of his trance and back into dancing as more Whitney Houston songs played.

The party was in full swing, drunk teenagers stumbling to the music, and Michael was sitting in the bathtub. He felt a million emotions boiling in his stomach and bit his tongue to keep from screaming. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard.  
"What am I still doing here," he asked himself. "Why did I come when I knew Jeremy'd ditch me?" He got out of the tub, standing in the middle of the strange bathroom. "It's not like it's my fault Jeremy's an asshole," he muttered to himself. Outside, there was a knock on the door.  
"Can I come in," an unfamiliar voice slurred. Michael huffed and rolled his eyes.  
"No."  
"Oh." There was no other noise.  
"Nothing like riveting conversation from Michael in the bathroom. I guess I'll just wait here until I can leave," he decided, scraping at the line between the tiles with a fingernail. "This is fine. Not like Jeremy and I have been friends for years or anything. Not like he's ignoring all that. Not like I'll be completely forgotten in a few months." Michael scraped harder at the wall, starting to feel a little misty-eyed. He took a deep breath, listening to an obviously drunk girl singing along to Whitney Houston. Michael sneered to himself.  
"Oh, just add insult to injury, why not?" He sang, "I wanna dance with somebody," with a tiny smile, recreating some of the old moves he'd taught Jeremy. Someone turned the music up louder, and he slid around the bathroom for a bit, dancing to the music, when it suddenly hit him: this was the first time in years that he'd danced to this song alone. The thought made his chest tight.  
"I'll have to keep my comments about drunk girls to myself then," Michael said, a hollow chuckle mixed with a choked-off sob emitting from his mouth. His throat was tight with tears that he tried to keep from falling. A quick swipe erased the ones that had gathered.  
"I'm not crying, it's just that… I got something in my eye," he said to the mirror. He leant forward when a knock was heard on the door. He jumped, stumbling away from the door. His mind ran frantically, trying to keep control of the situation.  
"Hey, are you done," a voice yelled through the door.  
"Uh, I'll be out soon," Michael called back. There was more knocking, so Michael assumed that the person hadn't heard him. Thinking quick, he grabbed a towel from the rack and laid it out on the counter. He splashed water in his face, all the while thinking that Jeremy was awful now and regretting even coming to the party. After a few splashes, he felt somewhat better. He dried his face and went to open the door, but was met with silence.  
"No more knocking… Okay then…" He stepped away from the door, his breathing still a little erratic. He leaned against the counter, trying to fight the tears that had returned with a vengeance. He opened his phone, looking for a distraction, and wound up going through his pictures. He had every picture he'd taken in the last four years on this phone. The first picture in the camera roll was one of a drawing he'd done of Jeremy's face while he was dancing in Michael's basement all those years ago. That picture hurt to look at, a boiling cocktail of love and betrayal coursing through his veins. He swiped to the next picture: him and Jeremy in the first photo they'd ever taken together. Normally the picture brought good memories; now, the smiling faces in the photo stung. Michael yearned for that time, when Jeremy was less obsessed with being cool and life was a little easier. He locked his phone again and pocketed it, turning to brace himself against the counter as a sob wracked its way through his body. He looked at his reflection and everything hit him. All at once, the tears and thoughts he'd been suppressing rushed him. After everything that had gone wrong that night, Michael cried over the bathroom counter, a hand over his mouth to keep anyone from hearing.  
"This night has been fucking awful," he whispered to himself. "God, fuck this. I wish I'd stayed home and just watched a movie or some shit. I wish I never came here. I wish I were dead," he said louder. A white-hot wall of prickles slammed into him; the last time he'd thought something like that and meant it was seventh grade. He cried harder, his reflection blurring into a monster.  
"Look at Michael," he snarked at his reflection, "who must be a stoner since he has no friends. Look, he's got a PT Cruiser. God, could he be any more of a loser? So boring, so sad, so by himself." His voice got even louder, the stream of self-abuse broadcasted to anyone standing outside.  
It was 12 am when Michael decided to leave. Jake Dillinger, who was in the front, threw an arm around Michael's shoulders on his way out to ask him what he thought of the party. Michael grimaced at the touch.  
"Awesome party, man. So glad I came," Michael said. He escaped the embrace and walked home, a barrage of self-hate still careening around his brain.  
Michael made it home mostly emotionally intact. He managed to slam the door to the basement shut before he broke down again. After a vain attempt to calm himself, he got his headphones and MP3 player out of his pocket. In less than a second, he had I Wanna Dance With Somebody playing. He let the noise pound in his ears, preferring a headache over incurable sadness. Before settling on a beanbag for the night, he grabbed the bottle of vodka he'd stowed behind the TV stand. He flopped on a beanbag and swigged from the bottle, feeling the burn of alcohol on his tongue and in his throat. He coughed at the sensation, but drank on. By 2 am, he was wasted, the bottle missing half its contents. The bottle floated away from his hand to settle somewhere next to the games cabinet. He felt tears on his face and made to wipe them away, but his arms felt too heavy. With a sigh, Michael let himself drift off into unconsciousness, his last thought of a complex dance that he couldn't follow the steps to.


End file.
